


A Load of Junk

by BasslineRaver



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabbles, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7358818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasslineRaver/pseuds/BasslineRaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various drabbles of the Junkers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fanart

There were a lot of problems with being in the public eye. 

Junkrat found yet another one.

“Lookit this mate,” Junkrat shoved a picture at Roadhog, who groaned and pushed him away, finding it too early to deal with his energy. “No don’t you groan at me, you need to look at this. There are people drawing pictures of us and we’re  _ fuckin’  _ in about three fourths of ‘em.”

That got Roadhog’s attention. He tilted his head over to the side and took one of the papers Junkrat had waved at him and stared down at it. It was a very good drawing he figured, but the content was…

“Lewd,” Roadhog grunted.

“I know innit it great!!” Junkrat cackled and flipped through the pictures. “Looks like I’m on top in this one. Ohhoho! Looks like they get our times together down preeeetty accurate eh there ‘Hog?” 

“Sometimes,” Roadhog pointed at one of the pictures where he was topping. “Not always you on top, you know.” 

“Well sure, sure,” Junkrat looked at that particular picture with a fond smile on his face. “Oh yea that’s great, I remember a night like that.” 

Roadhog reached out and picked up one of the pictures where they were portrayed as being tender with one another. He tilted his head a bit to the side, then smiled under his mask. It looked nice. He glanced over at Junkrat, who was too involved in looking through some of the more vivid pictures to notice much of anything else. Roadhog moved surprisingly fast for a man of his size, and sat up, moving over and pinning Junkrat down with one large hand. 

“OI!!” Junkrat howled and squirmed under his hand. “Don’t fuckin do that you oaf you--” he started to rant but halted mid sentence as he watched Roadhog shift his mask up just slightly. He stayed still, knowing that usually meant something important was coming up, usually sex, and he was already bothered by all the pictures he found. What he didn’t expect however, was Roadhog leaning and gently kissing at his cheek, then down his neck. 

“Wh-what’re ya doin’ there,” he stammered only slightly as Roadhog kissed down his bare chest, shivering in anticipation for something that never came. Roadhog paused at his middle, then moved back up, pulling his hand up and cupping it around Junkrat’s head. “Ohhh ‘Hog,” he moaned softly, which was muffled shortly after Roadhog started kissing him, passionately rather than the almost violent kissing they were accustomed to. 

“Can be nice sometimes,” Roadhog murmured and massaged his fingers against Junkrat’s scalp. 

“Yea… Yea you can be,” Junkrat nodded. “You know, I could go for that whole ‘life imitates art’ garbage tonight. Wanna do that?” he grinned up at Roadhog and wiggled his eyebrows.

Roadhog reached up with his other hand, tapping a finger against his cheek in thought. He grabbed one of the pictures and showed him, a simple one of them cuddling, then tossed it off to the side and swept Junkrat up to lay against his chest. Junkrat grumbled in defeat, but lay against his partner’s chest, knowing there was no swaying the larger man when he had his mind set on something. He soon was practically melting because Roadhog was rubbing at his back and head at the same time. 

“Yea, let’s imitate this art, this ain’t half bad,” Junkrat pulled himself up close to Roadhog’s face, kissed him deeply, then relaxed against him. 


	2. Regrets

“You know, this is your fault,” Junkrat pointed at his leg. Roadhog glanced over at him, then turned to keep watch once more as they camped out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, just off the side of the road. The good part about camping in the middle of nowhere was that it was easy to see when someone was coming, they could relax, and Roadhog could even take his mask off and breathe freely. The downside was that they themselves at their campfire were easy to see, and that Junkrat’s mind went to stupid places.

“No it’s not,” Roadhog said.

“Well, if you think about it, sorta! Didn’t you an’ your buddies start up that Australian Liberation Front an’ that blew up the thing that mucked up all o’ Australia?” Junkrat said, “An’ I was what, like, seven? Got me leg blown off since I was livin’ in one of the lil places sorta near th’ facility.” 

“I wasn’t part of that raid,” Roadhog stated. 

“Oh well. You STILL helped form th’ group an’ so this is your fault,” Junkrat put his hands on his hips and nodded. He then went back to cooking whatever bit of meat he had over the campfire, focused on not letting it burn and become inedible. 

Roadhog shook his head, “Not my fault,” he said, but there was a part of him, the part that still had feelings and most of them were for the stupid little rat, that felt regret. He had been a solar farmer, and he had lived his life of solitude in peace. Then the robots came and they took over all his land, destroyed his solar panels, built their uniform and bland buildings over all the area, and displaced him and all the others into a small town far away. His lip curled at the thought. 

“But yanno, wouldn’t have met you if it hadn’t happened either,” Junkrat continued. He pulled the stick with his meal out of the fire and set it to the side to cool. He looked over at Roadhog, which he was glad he did. The shocked expression on the man’s face was worth it. 

“You just like that I protect you,” he grumbled and leaned his chin in his hand. “You can’t fight worth shit.”

“Maybe it’s that, maybe it’s other reasons!” Junkrat insisted, “It ain’t the sparkling conversation, huh?” 

Roadhog fell back into his own thoughts and ruminated on it while Junkrat went to eat his hunk of meat. He wondered just how many lives were ruined because of the Australian Liberation Front. He pushed himself up and moved over, startling Junkrat who tensed up as he sat down next to him. 

“Whadya want,” Junkrat asked warily. He flinched even more as Roadhog reached down, grabbing his peg leg in one hand. He was about to scream, hit him, run away, do anything, when he heard the unexpected.

“Sorry,” Roadhog rumbled softly. 

“W-what. I was just kidding about that, you didn’t know me and specifically go, this dumbass kid doesn’t need a leg,” Junkrat said. He looked intently at Roadhog’s scarred face, then down at his hand. He was delicately holding his amputated leg, even going so far as to gently rub a finger along it. It boggled Junkrat’s mind sometimes as to how huge Roadhog was. It was boggling his mind even further that he was having such a reaction to a joke. 

“I uh,” Junkrat furrowed his brow and then took one of Roadhog’s fingers in his hand. “You didn’t do this, I know it, I swear. I was just shootin’ shit.” 

Roadhog made a soft ‘mmn’ in response, but nothing else. Junkrat heaved a heavy sigh, not knowing what else to do, and slumped up against Roadhog’s side. 

“Well, still glad I met you mate. Life wouldn’t be great without ya,” Junkrat stated. He looked even more frustrated when Roadhog didn’t respond, so he pulled his leg out of Roadhog’s hand, stood up, and looked at him eye to eye, as the only time he could was when Roadhog was sitting. He grabbed onto the sides of Roadhog’s head and leaned his head in, touching foreheads. “I fuckin’ love you mate. Makes me feel great cos I’m the only one you show feelings to. Keep showin’ them to me and only me cos nobody else deserves to see this side o’ you. Got it?” he said, intently staring into Roadhog’s eyes. 

Not expecting this level of seriousness, a laugh started low in Roadhog’s throat. He chuckled a little and then started full on belly-laughing, grabbing onto the confused little Junker and noogied at his hair. 

“Dumb kid. I love you too,” he said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like fluff.


	3. Protective

Trouble had to be both Junkers’ middle names. 

“Fine mess we got in huh. Oh WAIT you’re separated from me, because of course you are,” Junkrat groused and pushed up against a wall, grenade launcher in one hand as he pushed open a trap with his other hand. He kicked the trap so it slid out to a spot and then hurried along to a further away spot. Headhunters had found the two and in a sly but brilliant move, had managed to get between them and get them away from one another. The headhunters knew they worked well together, so getting them apart was a priority. 

Not to say they couldn’t fight on their own. Roadhog was indeed still a one man apocalypse, and absolutely dangerous to be around, though outnumbered he had to be careful. Junkrat was more of a distance fighter, so he was setting up as much crap as he could to put between himself and any headhunter that came close. 

Soon the area was alive with the sounds of explosions, screams, gunfire, and scrap flying everywhere. 

The headhunters were outnumbering the Junkers though, quite easily at that, and soon had Junkrat cornered, and with a punch to the stomach in a close up melee, had him doubled over and on his knees. He was swearing and cussing them out while they were trying to figure out what to do next.

“OI ROADIE,” he yelled, though his voice was a bit strained. “COULD USE SOME HELP HERE!!”

Silence, though there was the sound of chains dragging along on the ground. Roadhog must have used his hook on someone. 

“ROADHOG DAMNIT I ain’t payin’ you to dick around!” Junkrat continued. One of the headhunters groaned and kicked him in the side, telling him to shut up. “Fuck man,” Junkrat tried to shove at the man’s leg. “Fuck off, will you? Damnit!” 

Roadhog heard Junkrat swearing and knew he was in some kind of trouble, but he was having his own issues. One headhunter had a tranquilizing dart gun and that was trouble. A few shots wouldn’t be enough to take him down, but continuously being hit by them would be, so he was trying his best to stay out of range of that one man. He took refuge behind a corner and grabbed one of his cans of hogdrogen and took a breath of it to keep himself going. 

Turns out, he wouldn’t have needed that anyway, because adrenaline was one hell of a drug. 

“M-MAAAAKO!!” 

There was an unwritten rule between the two Junkers: Never use one another’s real name unless you were in serious trouble. Junkrat had only yelled for Mako twice before, and Roadhog had yelled Jamie’s name a single time. 

Roadhog turned his head towards the sound of Junkrat’s voice so fast he could have gotten whiplash. He ran out from his cover, shocking the men so much they forgot to fire and flat out grabbed one of the headhunters to throw at his buddies like he was a rag doll. 

“Comin’!” Roadhog growled, mostly to himself as he stomped along, heading towards the commotion that was where he heard Junkrat yell, and was glad he did when he got in sight of it. One of the men had managed to pull off Junkrat’s prosthetic leg, while another had taken a knife and jammed it through the center of the palm on his prosthetic arm. Already immobilized that wasn’t good enough, because it looked like they had beaten him to hell and back, bruises and blood covering his body. 

“Mako, gods, fuckin’ help!” Junkrat said upon seeing him, desperation clear in his voice. 

Roadhog took a single breath before flying into a rage. Junkrat watched in awe as the man plowed through the headhunters, killing a few of them in the fight. He covered his face with his free hand until the noises were over, if only because he didn’t want to get splatter in his mouth. When he heard Roadhog get close, he lowered his hand and smiled weakly up at him.

“Got in some deep shit, didn’t I?” Junkrat said in a wavering voice as Roadhog helped pull the knife out of the palm of his prosthetic. “Turned a corner to try to get away from ‘em and they were there waiting and clocked me right in the temple. Got me dizzy.”

“Heard you yell my name,” Roadhog leaned over, picking up Junkrat’s prosthetic leg with one hand and pulling it in close. He looked at it and then heaved a heavy sigh, “Gonna need to repair this.”

“Oh that’s okay mate,” Junkrat said, “Gives me somethin’ to do while I’m recovering. Gods, one of those mooks had a steel toed boot. An’ you don’t look too well off either. You uh, you got a knife there in your shoulder there, Roadie.” 

Roadhog turned to look and finally noticed that amongst all the other injuries he had gotten, a butterfly knife was lodged in his shoulder. He reached up and tugged it out, then tossed it to the side. “Happens. Let’s get you outta here first,” he scooped Junkrat up in one hand, resting him against his relatively clean other shoulder. “Got your leg?” 

“Yeaup I do mate,” Junkrat wiggled it around so it clinked. “Let’s get outta here.” Roadhog nodded and went to leave, not caring what destruction they left behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now taking prompts and requests at http://commandingstorm.tumblr.com/ and here of course!


	4. Dirty

Neither of the Junkers were sure the last time since they had bathed. Water was scarce enough in Australia normally. The fallout had just made it even worse and dangerous to come by. So when they had hopped a plane to start their worldwide crime spree, starting in nearby Japan, one of the first things they managed to do was find a bath house. They waited until the place shut down for the night, then snuck in so they would have the place all to themselves. 

“You know I always wanted t’ visit one o’ these, heard about ‘em once and I didn’t think they’d be so damned hard to find,” Junkrat said as he walked up and down a row of lockers meant for storing personal items. “And I been itchin’ to get clean. I ain’t bathing in no irradiated water.” 

Roadhog had taken to filling up the empty tub and peering into it. He too had been really wanting to get clean, but there was no sense in endangering himself, and it was a long trip to find safe water, one that he wasn’t sure was even possible. Sure there was the ocean, but then there was also the risk of even more danger in the water itself. 

“Rinse off before gettin’ in this,” Roadhog instructed. “I wanna soak.”

“Boiled pork huh?” Junkrat cackled. “Yea yea, that’s what they got these here for huh?” he eyed the faucets connected to handheld shower heads on the wall and nodded. “Roight then, clean off first and then relax.” 

Roadhog nodded. He stood after the tub filled, then moved and shed his gear and kicked it all to a corner. Junkrat did the same, though he was a bit more delicate with some of his explosives, and each man took to a faucet. 

“Oh gods,” Junkrat tilted his head back as the water ran through his singed hair and down his back, making terrible streaks as years worth of grime started to wash away. “This is fuckin’ heavenly mate.” He looked over at Roadhog, who had picked up a sponge and was trying to aggressively scrub at his arms while he held the handle of the shower head in his mouth. Junkrat was about to point out they had a holder for him to do that, but he was far too large for it to be of any use. 

“Oi, mate, lemmie help ya there,” he stood and moved his stool over to sit next to Roadhog, who had forgone using a stool and was sitting on the tile. Roadhog made a soft grunt of thanks, and then let Junkrat help clean his back and other harder to reach places because of his size. Junkrat made no qualms about it, they had been around each other for so long, helping one another was almost second nature at this point.

The first round of trying to clean ended up being just scrubbing years of dirt off their bodies and then marveling at how much of it had come off and went down the drain. The second time around they used soap and even more came off. By the fifth time they had deemed themselves actually clean. 

“Huh. You got freckles,” Roadhog pushed one of his fingers up against Junkrat’s cheek, and he blushed furiously at them being pointed out. 

“SO,” Junkrat swatted at his hand. “You got big splotchy bits of… of stuff!” He prodded at the darker skin bits on Roadhog’s arms and then ended up poking him a little bit more to annoy him. Roadhog lifted him right off the ground, grabbing him by one shoulder, then turned and marched over to the tub and dropped him in. 

“Turn th’ water back on so when you get in it fills back up,” Junkrat pointed over. Roadhog followed his instructions and let the water run, so when he lowered himself into the tub, the water that sloshed out from his girth started to refill. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Junkrat said as he sunk down in the water, “This feels so good.”

Roadhog leaned his head up against the wall next to the tub and sighed happily as well. “Why should we suffer when all those people get to live cushy lives,” he said. He looked over at Junkrat who looked frustrated and almost bordering on tears. 

“I wish those fuckin’ robots would just all go away,” he said. “Ruined me life, they did. Ruined yours too. Ruined everyone’s lives. And that’s why I’m gonna blow ‘em all up!” 

It only took a second’s thought before Roadhog reached out and patted him on the back. He rubbed his large hand against Junkrat’s back. Junkrat sank further into the water, relaxing under the touch, and he eventually just stopped thinking bad thoughts and relaxed. 

“Mmn,” Roadhog looked over at the mess they had left and then nudged at Junkrat with his foot. “We should clean up the mess we left. Least we can do for taking up this place and using it to make us feel good for once.” 

“Do we hafta,” Junkrat moaned. He looked over at the mess too and then frowned, “Well we DID get to be clean for the first time in what. YEARS. Ain’t been feelin’ this good in a long time. ...Can we just--”

“No Junkrat we are not going to blow it up to get rid of the mess,” Roadhog knew what was coming and pushed his hand against Junkrat’s mouth to shut him up. “These ain’t any people that caused us trouble, we can’t cause them trouble.” 

Junkrat furrowed his eyebrows but nodded. They had their own code of honor, though it was twisted to suit their needs most of the time. They both knew what it was like to be an innocent bystander, so they never went out of their way to aggravate innocent civilians. 

“Yeah, okay, we’ll clean it up,” he agreed. “After we soak a lil more. This is way too relaxing to leave.”

Roadhog nodded. Sometimes he had to be the voice of reason, and that was fine by him. 


	5. Longing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @lesbastion at tumblr

It had been a few months since the kid showed up. 

“You, you should be my bodyguard right? Yeah, wouldn’t that be great? See, everyone’s after me because I got this treasure. Oh it’s great, got this stuff on the Omnics that the world would kill to know. I’ll share anything I get with ya fifty-fifty if ya be my bodyguard. Nobody messes with you, every Junker in ‘Straya knows the name Roadhog. You’re big and mean and strong, nobody would mess with you to get to me. I mean, look at me. I’m skinny, I got one leg and one arm and everyone’s after me because of what I know. Now you, you’d be great. So are you up for being my bodyguard? Remember fifty-fifty! And by the way, you can call me Junkrat. Maybe Boss. That does sound pretty cool but I’d rather be partners, not your boss.” 

“... Sure.” Roadhog wasn’t sure what to say other than that to the rambling that Junkrat had introduced himself with, so he just went along with it. 

Since the start he was annoyed by Junkrat’s mere existence. It turned into fondness for the kid, which then turned into longing that he was afraid to voice. The terror Roadhog was shy about his feelings. He had lived for so long by himself, pushing others away, he had almost all but forgotten what it was like to have positive feelings for anyone. 

When Junkrat was happy, it was infectious. Roadhog would smile under his mask, love his jokes even if they were terrible and laugh along with him when he was cackling. When Junkrat was sad, he wanted to hold the smaller man close and tell him he’d defend him against the world if he had to. He’d want to find whatever made him sad and blast it with scrap. The kid he thought he’d hate turned into a friend he wanted to love.

They had a successful heist and holed up in an abandoned warehouse, taking up the office that overlooked the dusty, mostly empty containers. Nobody had tracked them there so it was safe enough.

Roadhog stared at Junkrat who was piling their stolen piles of bills into duffle bags. Just seeing how happy he was at their haul made his heart flutter just a little.

“Wot?” Junkrat stared at him, because he noticed the dead-eyed stare of Roadhog’s pig mask. “Were you watchin’ me? Hard to tell with that mask o’ yours.” 

The Junker bodyguard nodded once. 

“So whaddya got to say then?” Junkrat asked. 

This time he shook his head twice. Junkrat’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t say anything and went back to sorting through their haul. 

Roadhog was a one man apocalypse. 

Apocalypses weren’t supposed to have feelings. 


	6. Vulnerable

Nobody knew how the Junkers got called to help Overwatch. Some suspected there was money involved, since that was one of the few things that swayed them. Others suspected that violence was behind things. The real answer was… Winston. 

“You are so fascinating. I want to see you in action against something that isn’t crime related! The peculiar way you use your weapons is just… It boggles my mind at how you manage to survive on a regular basis!” Winston had said as he faced the two Junkers with a proposition. “I will, of course, pay you for working with Overwatch…”

That’s all Junkrat had needed to hear, and Roadhog followed wherever Junkrat went. 

One of the rules however for working with Overwatch, was that there was a mandatory health check-up. Junkrat had even bathed for this in hopes that the checkup would be short and they wouldn't bother him too much. 

“So you’re just gonna look ‘em over right? And give ‘em right back?” Junkrat carefully pulled his prosthetic leg off, then the arm and looked at them, then up at the doctors, who nodded. 

“We’ll be right back,” one of the doctors said, and the two doctors and the nurse turned and left, closing the door behind themselves.

That’s not what Junkrat had wanted at all. 

“GIVE THOSE BACK YOU CUNTS I’LL FUCKIN GLASS YA WHEN YOU GET BACK I FUCKIN SWEAR JUST--” Junkrat howled and hurled a nearby clipboard at the door as the doctors escaped. He made a strangled noise of frustration as he fell right off the examination table from his overreaction. Another annoyed noise escaped from between his clenched teeth and he hunkered down, pouting for a few minutes, before turning and hoisting himself back up onto the table. 

“Fuck,” he said, moving to hold himself around his middle with his single arm. Sure he had times where he had taken off his prosthetics and set them aside because sometimes he just felt like being unencumbered by their weight. Never before had they been out of reach and he had felt so vulnerable. It made his chest tight, his stomach weak, and he just wanted to feel normal again. The sterile office wasn’t helping either, he thought to himself, as he stared around at the room. Too clean, too  _ bland _ . 

So there Junkrat sat, fidgeting and waiting. He wanted to get up and pace but that was out of the question. He looked around for things to fiddle with and found nothing interesting. It was a doctor’s office after all. 

He groaned and flopped all the way back down onto the examination table so he was staring up at the ceiling. Even the ceiling was bland and boring, there weren’t even any tiles to count, it was just a flat white panel. Those doctors really knew how to mess everything up. He held his hand up, staring at it, then held it out towards the door and gave the finger to it, as if he was giving the finger to the doctors. When that wasn’t satisfying enough, he held his other arm up, and even though he lacked the hand to actually give the finger, he knew what he was doing. It wasn’t fully satisfying but he felt a bit better.

“Idiots, all of ‘em,” he said, still not caring that nobody was around to hear him. That intense feeling of vulnerability was still hanging over him and made him feel weak. His eyes drooped shut and he went back to hugging his one arm around his chest. “The money better be worth it…”

Even though the doctors had been gone for less than 20 minutes, it felt like hours. When they had hesitantly come back in, they had also came with an armed guard who made Junkrat feel even more uncomfortable. He was sitting there in his underwear and they had still deemed him a threat.

“Gimmie my arm back,” he held his hand out and then pointed at the doctor that was holding his prosthetics. 

“Your examination is not over, Mr. Fawkes. They will be returned when we are finished,” the doctor said. The guard shifted a bit, and Junkrat couldn’t help but feel sick to his stomach. However, he nodded in agreement, and let the doctors do what they needed to do. They prodded and asked questions and he had a few blood samples taken, and he gagged against the tool that they used to check down his throat. One of the doctors even had the gall to say he looked ‘a bit pale there’ while they were conferring with one another. When they had taken their sweet time finishing up, one of the doctors very carefully placed his prosthetics on the examination table next to him. 

“Put them back on and we will escort you out,” the guard said. 

Junkrat turned and looked down at his arm and leg, blinking slowly. The whole experience left him drained and he hadn’t even done much moving about. He grabbed at his arm and hooked it back up to his limb, using his teeth to help pull a few straps tight. Once that was on, he fiddled with the leg and hooked it up quicker. He grabbed his clothes from a table nearby and got dressed, fiddling with the shirt Roadhog had insisted he wear, and was secretly glad he did. It wasn’t much but it helped cover himself up a bit. He raised his head and glowered at the group, and the guard returned the glare, then motioned for him to follow out. 

When he had gotten out of the doctor’s wing of the building, he found both Roadhog and Winston watching for him. Roadhog straightened up a bit and Winston looked absolutely distraught. 

“I am SO SORRY for how they treated you!!” Winston said, wringing his hands. “I can’t believe they’d do that. They were treating you like criminals right? I may not approve fully of your behavior but here at Overwatch headquarters you are just as important as anyone else visiting is. They should honestly know better, they should be instructing their patients what they’re doing and not leave you alone for so long and--” he rambled a bit. 

Junkrat raised his head, looking a little surprised. “Ah, hey mate, you calm down there, eh? It was just a little bit they were actin’ like asses,” he said. The reaction of Winston was refreshing. 

“They took my mask to inspect it too,” Roadhog said to Junkrat, a bit softly so Winston wouldn’t hear, and let out a wheezing sigh. 

“That is not what they should be doing,” Winston bared his teeth and then let out a low growl, then composed himself and pushed his glasses up a bit. “How about we get something to eat. My treat?” 

“Yanno Monkey-Man, that sounds roight perfect it does,” Junkrat said. “Wan’ go do that Hoggy?” He glanced up at Roadhog who was staring intently at Winston. He eventually nodded slowly in agreement. “Yea that’s it! Let’s go stuff our faces.” 


	7. Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by multiple comments and an Anon ask on Tumblr.

The Junkers had escaped from the headhunters and found an out of the way, somewhat rundown motel to check into. Roadhog’s mere presence had scared the poor front desk worker to giving them a room on the end, where Roadhog had pulled his bike up around the back of the building, out of sight. Junkrat lay back in the sidecar, staring up at the skies, but looking a bit unfocused. 

“Easy does it,” Roadhog murmured as he lifted the smaller man out and up against his shoulder. He squeezed in through the door of the hotel and barred it shut the best he could, then rested Junkrat down gently on the bed. “Wake up,” he shook at Junkrat’s shoulder. “Pay attention. Gonna clean you up,” he stated.

“Huh. Oh,” Junkrat pushed himself up, arm shaking with the effort. “They really got my number didn’t they, heh,” he laughed weakly. 

“Happens,” Roadhog said. They both knew this wasn’t the worst they had been through and it wouldn’t be the last of it either. They were wanted men. Roadhog shuffled over to the bathroom and wet some towels, then brought them back and started cleaning off all the blood and anything else that had gotten on Junkrat in the recent encounter. 

“Gonna just rest here, yea? Yea just gonna rest here,” Junkrat dropped his head back against the bed and shut his eyes. His breathing evened out as he relaxed. 

Roadhog gently ran a finger through Junkrat’s hair, looking down at the skinny man as he rested, and couldn’t help but think back to the time he had called for him by name. 

It was relatively early on in their days together…

-

The Junkers known as Junkrat and Roadhog, already nefarious enough on their own, had started working together. In the following year since their alliance was formed, they had more than enough trouble in for them with their plans, which seemed to involve stealing whatever they wanted, and were planning on leaving Australia for bigger scores. 

It was a relatively simple plan, find a bank, wire it with explosives, steal whatever was in the safe that they could carry, then leave. Of course, plans were always simpler on paper than they were in action. 

Junkrat placed a box of explosives into Roadhog’s waiting hands. “All ya gotta do is place these one after another as far as the wire will stretch. You handle this left wall, I’ll get the right. Yup. It’ll be easy peasy lemon squeezy it will,” Junkrat said. He looked expectantly at him, “You can handle getting up there right? It’ll be better if we split up for this, and meet each other in front of the safe. When the walls blow, the door will fall inwards and we just collect our loot and go.”

Roadhog stared down and then shrugged and went to do what he had to do. He went to the opposite side of the building and looked up, grabbing his hook and hurling it up, embedding it into the wall with his strength and climbing up step by step. Why couldn’t the place have a safe on the ground floor like a normal sane person would? Roadhog grumbled a little more as he hoisted himself up and looked at a window, then cracked it open with his hook and knocked the glass away. Sure there were probably alarms, but he had hoped Junkrat took care of them like he promised he would. 

He squinted down at the blueprints they had stolen and then found where he needed to go, starting to hook the handmade bombs up against the wall. They were wicked little things that Junkrat had so clearly made out of whatever trash he could get his hands on and they did their job well.

Too well, apparently, because as he slammed the last one into the wall, it started beeping right away. Roadhog stared at it, then backed away a few steps and looked around. There wasn’t enough time to--

The explosion knocked Roadhog back against the wall and he was dazed. He couldn’t move and he wasn’t sure if he could stand. He was vaguely aware of an alarm, and then Junkrat’s excited cheering in the distance. 

“Junkrat d-damnit,” Roadhog coughed and pushed himself up, but was having trouble moving. Something had crashed down onto his back and was painfully weighing him down. 

“Junkrat!!” He yelled out a little louder. 

“Yea mate c’mon in, look at all the fuckin glorious swag we’re gonna get!” Junkrat yelled to him.

Roadhog shook his head and then pulled his mask up a bit. “Jamison,” he breathed out, remembering their rule from early on in their partnership. “Jamison!! JAMIE!!” 

There was an upset screech from Junkrat as he came running, completely forgetting the open safe. “Roadie? Mako! Oh gods what the hell happened,” Junkrat came over and was hoisting debris off Roadhog as fast as he could. 

“Your stupid bomb went off,” Roadhog coughed. He focused on breathing for a few moments as the weight of rubble lessened off his back, and when he could properly move again, he flew into a rage, grabbing onto Junkrat by the neck and pinning him to the ground, “Why the hell should I trust you and your goddamn garbage bombs?!” 

Junkrat squirmed helplessly under his hands, pushing at his fingers enough so he could try to breathe. “Damnit m-man! You try making a bomb from other people’s garbage!! It ain’t easy you know!” he answered, but Roadhog didn’t lessen his grip. “I didn’t mean to fuckin’ hurt  _ you  _ mate, never!” That made him let up and he stared down at Junkrat who scrambled backwards and away from him. Junkrat kept talking though, it was damn near impossible to shut him up even in a panic. Especially in a panic. “I never wanted to hurt you, I just. Like I would want to hurt you, we’re partners, yea? You even used my name. You never do. So you trusted me enough to come help didn’t cha? I… I came running as soon as I could when I heard that. I just-- We… We should maybe get outta here if we wanna talk. Do you think you can walk Roadie?” Junkrat edged closer to him, as if he wanted to help but was afraid to. 

Roadhog blinked slowly behind his mask and then pushed himself up. His body ached but he was no stranger to pain. He grabbed one of his cans and took a huff to give himself a bit of energy and then nodded. “Outta here,” he agreed. 

The rest of the night was a bit of a pain-hazed blurr for Roadhog, as they escaped somewhere with only the smallest amount of extra money. But he knew that night was the tipping point in their relationship. Things went a bit smoother between the two and there wasn’t as much vitriol as there was before... 

-

Roadhog blinked himself out of his memories. He stared over at Junkrat, who was sleeping soundly, a dopey grin on his face as he had some sort of good dream. A small, fond smile crossed Roadhog’s face as he looked over Junkrat. He sat back against the wall behind the bed and turned the TV on and only paid the vaguest attention to it as he was lulled off to sleep as well. 


	8. Tusks

The nuclear fallout from destroying the Omnium core was terrible. Those that survived were scarred for life in so many ways. 

Mako Rutledge saw his friends and family either killed or mutated. He himself wasn’t immune to the fallout as well, and saw the effects on himself. He was already a large man, but he had to have grown over a foot and gained hundreds of pounds, some of it muscle, some of it fat, some of it he wasn’t even sure of. He outgrew some of the other Junkers he lived with, though others grew to gigantic sizes along with him. But he didn’t care about the size. He was already used to being big. He used his strength well and that was fine by him. 

What made him feel self conscious were the tusks. 

His face may have been marred from shrapnel blasts, scarred red and never able to fully heal, he may have been oversized and his hands were bigger than most people’s torsos, but he didn’t care. The tusks made him feel animalistic. 

“Y’look like a fuckin hog,” one of the Junkers had told him. 

Despite it being such an offhanded comment, it had stuck with him. So when it was time for Mako Rutledge to strike out on his own and take to the wastelands, he adopted a new persona. He donned a leather mask styled like a pig to hide his face and dubbed himself Roadhog. 

-

“What’s under yer mask, you GOTTA have a face under there,” Junkrat tried unsuccessfully to grab at Roadhog’s mask, while the larger man merely held his hand against Junkrat’s head to keep him away. 

“ _ Stop _ ,” he cautioned. Junkrat was never one to listen to reason though, and ducked out from under his hand and then made a face at him. He then went off for a little bit… only to come around from behind Roadhog and jump on his back, yanking his mask off. 

Junkrat couldn’t help but stare at him. Roadhog didn’t have time to process the sudden jump, so his face was one of dull surprise. When he realized his mask was indeed off, his expression went directly to one of fury and he grabbed at Junkrat’s hand, yanking his mask out from Junkrat’s loose grip.

“You got tusks!” Junkrat said, though it wasn’t in any sort of shocked tone. It almost sounded sympathetic.

“Piss off,” Roadhog fixed his mask back on and looked away. 

“No it’s… Aw Roadie,” Junkrat’s voice softened and Roadhog turned to stare at him. “Hey, ‘Hog I didn’t know you got mucked up like that from the fallout too. One o’ me mates back in Junkertown had all these scaley bits on him.”

“Mmn,” Roadhog looked at him and pulled him off his back since he hadn’t bothered to get off, and set him down. He poked a finger against his chest. “Don’t. Tell. Anyone.”

“Like I would mate!” Junkrat shook his head. “S’just you n’ me here though, yea?” he waved his arms around at the area they had chosen to camp out in. “Can I see again?” 

Roadhog heaved a sigh, knowing that he wouldn’t let up on this, so he pulled his mask off and stared down at the ground. “Fallout made me big. Gave me these,” he tapped at his mutated teeth, “Made me feel like a goddamn animal.”

“Izzat why I heard you yelling about ‘we’re all animals’ at one point?” Junkrat asked. “I thought you were just bein’ a badass.” He scrambled over and leaned up against Roadhog’s belly, staring up at his face. “I think they’re awesome. Look at you, survived the fallout and only got to look fuckin’ hardcore.”

“I’m-- what,” Roadhog blinked and glanced down at Junkrat who was staring up at him with what could only be called adoration. 

“You heard me mate! You survived a thing that killed what, a fuckton of people? That’s damn amazing even if it was just dumb luck,” Junkrat said. He smiled almost fondly up at him, “And I got to meet ya. And now we work together. And live together. And we ARE together after all that, right? You know what I mean? You and me more than just two guys together? Roight.” 

“Heh,” Roadhog couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A few months ago Junkrat tells him he likes him, then he said he might love him, now he’s not freaking out when he sees his face and just now apparently decided they were indeed in a relationship. 

“So now that you’ve finally taken that mess of stinky leather off your face, I can do this,” Junkrat grabbed onto the sides of Roadhog’s head without warning and pushed in, kissing him. 

Roadhog tensed as it happened but relaxed, hesitantly and very unpracticed as he kissed back. When Junkrat pulled away he wasn’t sure how to react, but he was sure he was blushing so he hurriedly fit his mask back over his face. 

“Ya got some bright red ears there doncha,” Junkrat said and grinned. He slid off Roadhog and sat next to him. “Been waitin’ so long to do that you know.” 


	9. Frosty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @aritod

The heist was so easy. They had planned for a few weeks worth of work but on their first night of scouting they found the guard of the vault sleeping and they nicked the keys and made a copy. Then the next night they came back guns blazing and stole their choice of rare jewels and escaped into the night. They found an abandoned apartment building, once meant for Omnics that got raided and left for decay. The only ones that lived there now were the occasional homeless person and wild animals. They found a somewhat decent space, boarded up the windows a bit better so nobody could tell there was anyone in there, and set up their portable battery-powered heater so they had warmth.

“Oh man,” Junkrat cackled and grabbed onto the bag and hugged it. “That was SO EASY I can’t believe the mook would just sleep right there.”

Roadhog grunted and pulled out one of the brilliant blue sapphires and eyed it, then tossed it back in the bag. “Was fun,” he said. 

“Yeah! It’s really great when it’s fun isn’t it? Sweet swag, easy crusin’ and I even stole one of their lunches!! So SWEETS!” Junkrat shoved a muffin in his mouth and gave Roadhog a thumbs up. 

“We gonna go back home?” Roadhog ignored that. 

“No! We are gonna… yeah we’re gonna go… Go be NORMAL people and… Visit the city nearby? Yea let’s go do that. But it’s cold. We gotta go nick some warmer clothes,” he gestured at the raggedy jacket he wore for the sole purpose of working in a colder environment. Roadhog had a heavy cloth tarp he was using like a poncho. They also had procured a few other large pieces of cloth tarp and blankets for their night’s stay in the cold environment. 

Roadhog shook his head, “Won’t find any my size,” he said. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Junkrat said. 

That something happened to be Junkrat finding an oversized Santa costume and dumping it on Roadhog’s lap the next day. He had gotten up early to go scrounging for things and one of them had to be a Santa outfit. There were some other things that seemed to fit well enough so Roadhog went for those, but the jacket was just so undeniably warm and layered with what seemed to be faux fur that Roadhog couldn’t help but use the jacket. It made him look like a gigantic cherry. And Junkrat…

Junkrat had managed to swaddle himself up in so many layers of clothing that he couldn’t put his arms down. He waddled around their little hideout and cackled excitedly. 

“You look stupid,” Roadhog stated. 

“I AM WARM,” Junkrat screeched and attempted to smack Roadhog as he usually did but only managed to flail his arms. He stared at himself and then his expression soured as he realized his usual level of friendly violence towards Roadhog was diminished. “I… I maybe need less clothes, yea?” Roadhog’s usual silence answered him. “Yea I need less clothes.” 

“Dumbass,” Roadhog grunted. 

“I AIN’T A DUMBASS YA CUNT I’M WARM,” Junkrat hollered and waved his arms around only to fall backwards and land with a muffled thump. He wriggled in place and then started angrily cussing because he could not push himself up. Roadhog left him there for a few minutes while he fiddled with making sure he was set to go outside, and pulled his mask off, fitting a large hat and scarf over his face so only his eyes would show. Then he tended to Junkrat, hoisting him off the ground and pulling layers of jackets and snow pants off him until he was still comfortably warm but not looking like a fool. 

“Better?” Roadhog looked him over and then grabbed a stocking cap and shoved it down on Junkrat’s head.

“Ya always lookin’ out for me mate,” Junkrat beamed up at him. “C’mon, les’ go see what that town has to offer to normal people.”

After a little bit of a walk, the two men made their way into the larger town nearby, not big enough to be a sprawling metropolis of a city, but not entirely small enough to be unnoteworthy. They stopped in at a cafe and got hot chocolate, walked by the windows of the stores and stared in at the fancy displays they had, and generally just spent time together. 

As they reached the city’s park, Junkrat stopped and stared at the ice rink, set up for public use. He cocked his head to the side, watching the people skate in a large circle. 

“Roadie, I wanna do that,” he pointed out to the rink. He looked up at Roadhog, who blinked slowly, then shrugged and pointed over towards the rental area. 

“Gotta pay,” he said. 

“That’s okay! We got money don’t we? Loads of it. And it’s all for us to spend on us, roight? Yea! Let’s go do it,” Junkrat hopped down the stairs and made his way over to the small building, Roadhog in tow. After only a few minor threats, they took to the ice, Roadhog with a pair of skates that had never been worn before because of his size, and Junkrat with a boot strapped to his peg leg. 

They were terrible. 

And they loved it. 

Junkrat howled with laughter as he wiped out yet again, sprawled on his back and colliding into a wall. Roadhog wobbled and fell backwards with a loud grunt, but his eyes were arched into an expression that clearly said he was happy. 

“This is the stupidest thing, how do these people stay up?” Junkrat hoisted himself up, grabbing onto the wall for leverage, and tried once more. He mimicked the motions of the other skaters and made it a bit farther before wiping out again. “Ain’t there a sport people play on skates where they beat each other up all the time? That sounds great. Can we do that?”

“Hockey,” Roadhog said and pointed over towards a corner where some kids were practicing net shots. “Fights are… optional parts of the game.”

“It ain’t ever optional!” Junkrat pushed himself up with a grin before Roadhog grabbed onto his leg and yanked him backwards.

“Don’t go beat up children,” Roadhog scolded him. “Just skate. With me.”

Junkrat moaned sadly but nodded. “Yea yea. Fine. I wanted to do this, I’ll keep at it.” 

-

A relatively full day later, Roadhog and Junkrat ended up back in the abandoned building, hunkered down over a warm meal. Their little heater was doing its work, and the fact that they had boarded up the windows and threw blankets over colder corners made it actually a cozy little hideout. 

“That wasn’t half bad, ay Hoggywog?” Junkrat asked. He jabbed at some of the chicken in the chicken alfredo he had gotten and then pointed it at Roadhog. “Could go for more days like that.”

“Wanna? Don’t have to go on a heist, just go to a place incognito, enjoy the day,” Roadhog said. “I’d like that, honestly. With you it’s always go-go-go.” 

“But it’s fun stealin’ stuff! Aw fine. Next place we go, we won’t do anything stealing wise,” Junkrat said. “Shake on it? Yea? Promise made,” he held his hand out and Roadhog grabbed it tightly. “Now let’s eat and I dunno. Sleep. M’tired.” 

“Me too,” Roadhog said. He finished his own hearty warm meal and grabbed a book he had gotten while they were out and tossed it to Junkrat. “Read this while settling down, should pass the time.”

“Oi, thanks,” Junkrat caught the book and then moved, settling in against Roadhog’s side for warmth. 

Roadhog picked up his own book and read until he was tired. He settled down, pulling one of the larger canvas tarps over himself as a warm blanket, and patted at Junkrat’s side, indicating he was going to sleep. 

Junkrat was quiet as he read a little longer, then settled in with his back up against Roadhog’s belly. He yanked the tarp a little away from Roadhog so he could use it to cover himself as well and yawned, then fell asleep. 


	10. Arcade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @lilmaeval

Japan was a good stop for the Junkers whenever they wanted to head out of Australia. There was always so much to do and see. There were obviously flights that went elsewhere, possibly even directly, but they often went out of their way to choose a flight that went into Japan so they could bum around for a few days before heading out.

It was for a very important reason too that they would do this, because it was a tradition ever since early in their days together. Junkrat had dragged Roadhog to an arcade, and won him a plush and ever since then they went whenever they had the chance. 

This time was no different.

“You got your mask?” Junkrat asked, checking over at Roadhog. They were putting their civilian clothes on, trying their best to blend in. Thankfully, for Roadhog’s size, sumo wrestlers were not an uncommon sight, so if asked he went with that. 

“Mm-hmm,” Roadhog pulled the cotton reusable health mask up and over his face so it covered his nose and mouth. It was pink. Shamelessly pink. The mask had tiny felt ears on it, and the adorable face of a winking pig. He honestly couldn’t resist how cute it was. His tusks were vaguely visible under the mask but only if you got in very close, like only Junkrat would often tend to do.

“Should go with the hair down today, you wore it up yesterday,” Junkrat commented as he splashed water on his face and rubbed off the dirt. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, picking at the freckles on his cheek as if it was going to help them get off. Roadhog noticed this and went over, putting his finger over Junkrat’s cheek to distract him.

“They’re cute,” he said softly. 

“Stappit ya lump,” Junkrat said, but made no move to pull away or push Roadhog’s hand away. He instead leaned into the other man’s hand. 

“You’re fine. Doing good,” Roadhog continued, grabbing a comb to help try to at least brush out some of Junkrat’s hair to make it look less crazy, and help pull out some of the junk that got tangled in it. Junkrat fidgeted, but whenever Roadhog murmured soft words of praise, he calmed down and looked blissfully content. Roadhog wet the comb and gave it a few more pulls through Junkrat’s hair, then ruffled it a little bit to give it more of its normal wild look now that it was cleaner. 

“We’re all set then, yeah?” Junkrat turned and looked up at him, shamelessly checking him out even though he wasn’t wearing anything out of the ordinary. Roadhog was wearing a baggy pair of shorts, big sandals, and a t-shirt underneath a bright patterned Hawaiian blue and pink shirt. Junkrat was a little more simpler, wearing a tank top with a lewd saying on it, ‘Suck my balls,’ and a stylized cup of boba tea, which was entirely too cute to be saying what it was. He also was wearing shorts and sandals, since it was such a nice day out.

“Let’s go,” Roadhog nudged at his back. They left the hotel, relatively clean and not causing any trouble for anyone as they went down the street. They stopped in at a convenience store, got some slushies for the way there, and chatted about inane things. 

The weather was nice, wasn’t it? Did you watch the whole football game last night or did you fall asleep? I bet that building has a fancy lobby, I bet it even has a big fountain in it! 

They stopped in front of their destination, one of the arcades, and both stared up at the large screen that was over the entryway, which broadcasted the popular fighting game that was in the arcade with footage of whoever was playing it at the moment. 

“S’neat,” Junkrat said, “I’m rubbish at those games though. Get my arse whooped I would.” 

Roadhog just laughed at that and shoved at his side. They headed in and Roadhog paused, staring at what they had on display. 

“Golden Pachimari…” Roadhog whispered, almost reverently. The rumors were true, each week a random arcade was given the chance to offer a golden Pachimari, and it hadn’t been won yet. It was on a special little display behind one of the counters, looking adorable and shiny. 

“Ya want that mate?” Junkrat looked as well, knowing how much the big guy loved cute things. Sometimes it flew over his head as to why but even he knew the gold one was special.

“Mmn-hmm,” Roadhog nodded, then looked at him, “We’re winning it fair and square,” he growled out. “No stealing when we’re here.”

“Aw,” Junkrat shrugged his shoulders, “I wasn’t even thinkin’ about it! Okay maybe a little. Just a little. Could just bust in here so easy at night and… yoink!” 

“No.”

“Awww.”

Thankfully, Junkrat had his own secret weapon: He was shamelessly good at rhythm games. He wriggled his fingers and grinned. “Well then, mate, I’ll win it for ya.” 

He strode over to one of machines, a Beatmania machine, then grinned. “Mako, you gonna go get some slugs for me? I’m gonna get mad points on this machine for ya and rack up the points we need.” He was careful to use his real name so they didn’t draw a terrible amount of attention beyond their appearances. 

“Lot o’ points,” Roadhog murmured and nodded, getting a card that would let them play the machines.

“Ain’t no problem,” Junkrat waved his hand dismissively. “As long as you ain’t got a problem with being here all day.” Roadhog shook his head at that and gave him the game card. “Then nope, we’re gonna get you that Golden Pachimari.” 

“Thanks,” Roadhog was smiling behind his mask so it wasn’t entirely too visible, but his eyes were very expressive, and Junkrat knew his expressions from that. 

Junkrat went from machine to machine, racking up points. He paused and eyed one of the machines that was crowded by teens because it was easy to get points on. 

“OI. I wanna play,” he said. 

“Fuck off,” one of the teens sneered at him.

Junkrat turned and looked at Roadhog who started to come over as well. He was trying not to be terribly imposing but his mere presence made most of the teens scatter. A few stayed though and glared at him. 

“Aren’t you too old to be in an arcade?” One of them said.

“And too fat!” another chimed in.

Junkrat’s face lit up with fury and he leaned in, though wisely had no contact with the kid, “OI YOU CALLIN MY MATE FAT? YOU’RE GONNA GET A DRY SLAP YOU ARE!!” he yelled in his face. 

The teens left and the staff of the arcade were too nervous to actually do anything about the cackling short man and his portly friend. Even more shocking was when the two walked up a full card of credits.

“That,” Roadhog pointed at the golden Pachimari plush. “Give it.” 

All the men behind the counter could do was agree and hand it over. 

“You like it?” Junkrat grinned as they walked out in the evening. 

Roadhog stared down at the shimmering golden plush and hugged it. “Yes.” 


	11. Cicada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did this for me. I have had rough times. I get a thing now.

Another day, another heist, and another escape to safety. 

Roadhog veered his bike into a small suburban neighborhood after losing the cops. He pulled up into a driveway and shoved the bike behind a large truck, not caring that someone was standing in the backyard, watching. Junkrat hopped out of the sidecar and looked everything over, making sure there was nothing wrong with the motorcycle. He then pulled their haul out of the sidecar and checked that over. He then froze and stared around, listening to something.

“What’s that buzzing,” he said. 

Roadhog stared at him, then shrugged, not really noticing anything out of the ordinary. He sat down and started doing some minor repairs on the chopper. 

“Roadie, quit ignoring me you goddamn idiot, there’s buzzing!!” Junkrat almost screeched and shoved at his side. 

“Those are cicada,” the person called out to them. It was very clear they had seen more than their own share of weird things in the neighborhood and didn’t seem to mind a random pair of Junkers taking refuge in their driveway. 

“What,” Junkrat stared at the person.

“Yea, little bugs that show up every summer and buzz,” they pointed at the trees. 

Junkrat stared up at the trees, then at the person, then up at the trees again. He dropped down into the grass next to the driveway and stared up at the trees. 

“Never heard cicada before, huh?” Roadhog said softly to him. 

“Nuh-uh,” Junkrat shook his head. “Droning lil noise innit?” Roadhog made a sound of agreement. “Oi ‘Hog, you don’t have to hurry, I don’t think his place is half bad.” Roadhog nodded and grabbed another tool, reaching in and tightening a few connectors on the chopper’s engine. Junkrat flopped all the way back into the grass and shut his eyes, breathing evening out. 

“That person’s still there,” Roadhog said, “Don’t you dare pull a gun out on them, then they’ll call the cops or they’ll hear us. The bike isn’t ready yet.”

“Okay, okay. I don’t want to anyway,” Junkrat said. “Grass is all warm and nice.”

“Mmn. Good. Innocent people don’t deserve the shit we do,” Roadhog said.

Junkrat looked over at him. “Cos o’ what you went through right? With the A.L.F. thing?” Roadhog nodded. Junkrat couldn’t help but feel his heart sink just a little bit, and he nodded. “Roight then, I won’t.” 

As Junkrat relaxed, the soft clinking of the noise of the tools against the metal of the bike and the droning of the cicada practically lulled him into a sleep. He was so out of it he didn’t notice that the person had come over with a pitcher of water, a pitcher of sweet tea, and some cups. Roadhog did though, and watched them warily. 

“It’s hot. Here.” They said and set the things down. 

“Thanks,” Roadhog stared at them, hoping the soulless glare of his mask was enough to scare them off. They didn’t look very intimidated though, so he just went back to working on the bike. 

“Stay hydrated okay? It’s hot and you’re wearing leather. Ain’t the weirdest thing I’ve seen though, some religious nut came up with an accordian looking for girl scout cookies,” they said and shrugged. “Good luck on it though, it’s a nice bike.” 

Roadhog raised an eyebrow behind his mask, then nodded, smiling, though the person couldn’t see that, and went back to working as the person headed back into their home. 

“See ‘Rat, people ain’t all bad,” Roadhog said, noticing that Junkrat had been warily watching the interaction go down. 

“Yea yea, Mr. Right-hog aren’t ya. Gimmie some o’ that,” he said, snickering a little at his own pun and poured himself a cup of sweet tea. He leaned back and sipped at it, shutting his eyes and letting the drone of the cicada lull him back into relaxing.


End file.
